


Fall Away From the Lines

by The_Otter_Knight



Series: you can't choose what stays and what fades away [3]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Teresa/Thomas, Off-screen Character Death, Post-The Death Cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Otter_Knight/pseuds/The_Otter_Knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas had promised himself that he wouldn't tell Minho of what he had done to Newt. Brenda, however, made no such promises.</p>
<p><i>Newt was assigned the gardens, she learns at some point. Minho's smile is patient when he explains this. "He would love the gardens and the crops we're growing now," he says, then snickers. "Although he'd probably hit Tomboy over there upside the head because 'that isn't how you coordinate any</i>thing<i>,'" his voice grows teasing, mocking Newt's accent and Brenda wonders what he'd do if he knew.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall Away From the Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Oh Wonder's Livewire song.

Brenda could hear him crying.

She could hear the quiet muffles, the stilted silence that followed after each hiccup as he tried to quiet himself. She would hold him close to her chest, fold him so that he could fit against her. He would still and go silent, unwilling to let her hear him when she's so close. Thomas has never been wholly strong - he could keep going, yes. He could kill people if lives depending on it, yes. But take away his friends - his _foundation_  - and he becomes lost. He is driven by the need to protect his friends, that much was clear. WICKED has known that, and threw the curveball that was Chuck at him - then tore him away. The brother without blood would always leave a gaping wound in his side. Teresa was next, the girl that he had loved the most. Betrayal is bittersweet on the tongue, and she could see the pain that was her death still linger in his eyes.

Newt, however, had been something that they hadn't placed there as a variable. Brenda would later learn that during the rescue mission to pick up Thomas and herself, Newt and another boy had almost been shot by officials who were patrolling the streets. By the way they were described, it was evident that they were from WICKED - and yet the other Gladers hadn't seemed to have picked up on that. WICKED had known how dangerous the bond between the two was getting. But Newt had been relentless, had still strived to save them both. She hadn't thought much of it when the blond had insisted on watching over him when Thomas'd been shot and his fever went high, had held his hand while hoping he was alright - because that was what best friends did, wasn't it? 

The devastation of shooting Newt still weighed heavy on Thomas' mind. He hadn't even recovered in the slightest when Teresa had been lost. Two close friends in such a short period of time - she was amazed that he had lasted this long. But he was bound to break, and she intended to be there when he did, because that was what friends did.

She hadn't realized how much the two had meant to him, though. Brenda hadn't the slightest idea until she had mistakenly tried to kiss him on the mouth after the day of their arrival, when the shock had worn him still and unresponsive so he had barely noticed. He had pushed her away this time, protests bubbling up and he just looked  _so scared_ that Brenda dared not try again.

Brenda knew that you can't love someone and expect for them to love you back when they had already given all of their love away.

Still, as his friends, she stayed with him. When the first couple of houses were being built, some of them were offered rooms. Thomas and Brenda shared because everybody assumed they were already together -  _never, she thinks, he could never love me that way anymore -_ and so she was almost surprised when she had heard him crying that first night. She doesn't know what it says about them when the only time he lets her touch him is to hold him at night, trying to comfort him but knowing that she'll never be enough.

"What's wrong with him?" Minho asks her quietly, one day, as they watch Thomas simply stare off into space, tearing up grass needlessly.

"Regret is a heavy burden," she chooses to say because she doesn't think that she could tell Minho about everything that Thomas had been through, the Noseless men, the trauma of seeing everyone he has ever cared about die for or because of him. At Minho's incredulous look, she adds, "He's dealing with stuff. Leave him be."

She doesn't know if she should be concerned when all of them offer themselves for jobs, that Thomas insists on gardening - away from familiarity and his friends. She doubts that she should be surprised, though. Sometimes to comfort yourself, you had to submerse yourself into something that reminded you of the ones you lost.

"These are the colour of her eyes," he tells her, quietly - he's never loud anymore, never asking too many questions, just staring off into space all the time and barely responding, barely eating - as he holds up petals of a delphinium. He's wearing a wreath of peruvian lilies along his wrist, but he doesn't look very happy about it. It rests uneasily, and he only sighs when she asks her what they meant. "They were his favourites."

Newt was assigned the gardens, she learns at some point. Minho's smile is patient when he explains this. "He would love the gardens and the crops we're growing now," he says, then snickers. "Although he'd probably hit Tomboy over there upside the head because 'that isn't how you coordinate any _thing,'"_ his voice grows teasing, mocking Newt's accent and Brenda wonders what he'd do if he  _knew._

"We're going to be building up a Trans Unit, if we can," Minho says, after they've gathered up a meeting. He's the self-declared leader of the people of Paradise, and everybody is willing to follow him. "Rescue the people who've been left behind." Brenda knows who he's talking about, but she bites her lip and looks over, expecting for Thomas to almost interject there.

Thomas, who had thinned and became a shadow of himself, looks haunted by Minho's statement. He doesn't object to the Trans Unit construction idea, but he doesn't agree with it, either. He's shivering and shaking and staring blankly ahead, unable to comprehend it. She holds his hand, aware that Minho notices this, but she doesn't care.

Thomas flees at the first opportunity that he gets, avoiding the concerned looks from Gally and Jorge and from Brenda herself who traipsed after him. He's throwing a fit of sorts, shoulders shaking and dirt flying. She finds him among a wreck of lilies and blue flowers. His hands are pressed to his mouth, trying to steady his own breathing but it comes in gasping hiccups.

She approaches him and when he hears this, he turns to her with a completely wounded expression, like a bird who is aware of its broken wing. Completely and utterly devastated. "I'm sorry," she says, repeating the phrase that she whispers into his ears when she holds him at night. He doesn't object when she pulls him close, letting her hair as a curtain between them and the outside world. She knows how cruel its burden is to live within it.

Thomas gets red-faced when he cries, quivering lips and snotty-nosed and watering eyes. He's not attractive at all when he does, but it's so easy to tell when he is affected by something like this. Apologies are never enough to ease the pain that someone feels, even though she'd like to think that they can.

"Are you ever going to tell him?" She asks, when his sobs have quieted and he's breathing softly, now sitting apart from her with his knees pressed to his chest. "Minho was his friend, too."

"And tell him, what, exactly? 'Hey, how's your day been? Guess what, I shot your best friend and my boyfriend, so, what's for breakfast?'" His words were croaked out, and easily lead into aching laughter, full of pain and sorrow. She stills; she hadn't been aware that they had been dating at that point, so she voices her skepticism.

"Yes, kind of," he says, wiping at his eyes, pausing for a second before nodding jerkily. "We were, I think. After the Scorch, we promised we'd get each other to the Haven - to Paradise - and  _finally_ be together," he stops because he forces himself to. She sees tears shine in his eyes. "Because the timing was never … But he said …" He's lost his train of thought, or maybe he can't explain himself well enough, because he's looking at his shoes with a completely lost expression. "If not, he'd understand, he said, if I wanted to be with Teresa or - _shuck -_ even you." He wipes at his face until it stings red.

She doesn't have anything to say to that. "I'm sorry that you shot him," she voices, "and I'm sorry that you had to."

He looks up at her from where he had buried himself in his crossed arms. His eyes are lined red and he sniffles out, "Not as sorry as I am. I'd do anything to take it back, but I can't.." She hears the devotion in his words, next, "But he asked me to, and he was in so much pain that I - Bren, I loved him. I _still_ do." He cups his face again and leans forward, making a low noise. Even though she knew that it would break him to kill his boyfriend, he had done it because it had been asked - no, _begged_  - of him. Her heart breaks, slowly at first then all at once. Even though she had seen it, for him to explain it like that - it devastated the both of them. "It should've been me," he begins to say, "why, why couldn't it have been me in front of the bullet instead?"

She knows then, that when Thomas had pulled the trigger, both of them had died that day, not just Newt. Brenda also knew that Thomas wouldn't dare tell Minho, because the pain was still too fresh - still too real - something that he was still having trouble voicing, even now. She knew who would have to do it, though, because the both of them couldn't be in the dark.

Brenda decides to do it during another meeting, after they begin to discuss the Trans Unit operation. Minho is very adamant about this, is so very insistent on going through with this plan, so he's willing to listen to whatever Brenda wants to talk to him about. She knows that her words wouldn't be something that he expects, though. His smile comes easy, eyes curious and eyebrows cocking as he greets her when she approaches him after the meeting. Thomas hadn't shown up for it, and she knows Minho had noticed.

"Do you want to know  _why_ Thomas cries at night?" she begins, voice unsteady. Minho's brows furrow and he blinks down in confusion at the papers, obviously not expecting this start, but he knows she's serious because she had used his full name. "Why he doesn't want to be near you, anymore? Why he won't talk to _any_ of us anymore?"

"That isn't relevant-" Minho begins to object, expression morphing into impatient indifference, but he never takes his eyes off of the papers strewn across the tabletop.

"I know who you're trying to rescue, but you _can't -_ because Tom killed him," she whispers and Minho completely stills, his eyes lifting. "And he misses all of them, but he can't get over it. I don't think he ever can." She stops, forcing herself to because she knows if she continues, something might happen that she'll regret.

"What?" Minho's face scrunches up in obvious confusion, but she knows that he had heard what she had said, at least on some level.

"Thomas _killed_  Newt." The words feel heavy in her mouth.

"He wouldn't," Minho says, not quite angrily or with remorse just yet. There's a dark lurking to his eyes as he leans away from what he's working on. "The shank hadn't been able to hurt a fly - except Gally, but he doesn't matter - you hadn't been there, you hadn't seen how he looked when Chuck died. Him and Newt were close, so he had  _no reason or no right_ to kill him!" He stands up abruptly, fists smacking against the hardwood of the table. "We hadn't even  _seen_ Newt since that day - he -  _where_ was the opportunity for him to kill Newt, huh?" There's such fierce denial in his eyes, hope for the impossible morphing his face into an ugly expression. He's desperate, grasping for straws.

"When we sent him to WICKED," she begins, "we saw him in the streets. Tom made us stop the van because he  _recognized_ him." She stops, waiting for Minho to intercept but he does, patiently staring at her with horror in his eyes. "Newt had been angry at Tom, you know. But then .. he begged for it, Minho. He begged to die because …" her voice stops because she is unable to continue. Thomas isn't the only one who has nightmares of that night.

"Tell me you're lying." Minho whispers, bracing himself against the table because the words are too heavy to hear alone. "Please."

"Newt tried to commit suicide one day in the Maze, didn't he?" she instead responds with and Minho all but collapses onto the table, letting out a loud wheeze -  _"Oh my_ god"  _-_ and she knows that he knows that she's serious, that Newt truly is dead.

Brenda stares at her hands, desperate to explain that Thomas wasn't the bad guy here. "You hadn't seen him when Newt asked him to do it," she says, voice soft and maybe not quite as broken as Minho's but just enough for him to know that she's being earnest, that it hurts her just as much. "He hadn't wanted to, Minho. He didn't, not even in the slightest. He was begging, crying, pleading for Newt to change his mind, to go back with him. You hadn't _seen_  him."

"Why the shuck," comes a gurgling of a question, "would he do it?" He's blinking moisture from his eyes, looking everywhere but at her. He's desperate for answers, she knows.

"You would too," Brenda says, whispering, not quite sure if the statement is entirely true. "If the person you loved asked for it. Sometimes, you have to let go the things you love." Minho's composure breaks.

"Oh," he sighs, clutching his hand desperately to his chest. There's a slight tremor to his shoulders, and his footing looked less sure.  _"Oh."_ He drops to his knees, clutching his disjointed fist to his chest and hunching in on himself. Brenda reaches out to him, but he snaps at her, quickly. "Don't. Don't you _dare_ touch me." She sees him clench his fists, dry heaving even though he tries to steady his breathing. "You  _knew_ but you didn't tell any _one."_

"I'm telling you right now."

Minho says nothing for a moment, "He had no  _right._ I don't  _care_ if Newt wanted it - he shouldn't have -" he stops himself, unable to continue. Maybe it was then that he realizes what Thomas had when he had decided to shoot Newt. "I'll  _never_ forgive him," he sounds so broken, so tired and wrecked that Brenda's heart aches.

"He'll never forgive himself," she agrees. She knows Thomas well enough to know that this is true.

There are some similarities between Minho and Thomas, she realizes. Both strong and capable people - but they are the tip of the twin towers, capable of crumbling when the base is taken away. It's amazing how Newt had seemingly helped build both of them up, only to be their unison downfall. They both also let her hold them close.

Minho is then muttering into her chest, still trying to deny it but knowing it to be true. He's breathing hard, his breath warm on her. Brenda's fingertips become unsteady, trembling as she carts them through Minho's hair, trying to calm the both of them down. Minho wasn't a loud crier - he simply heaved and let out soft keening noises, muttering into her collarbones and dragging her down with him when he sagged to his knees.

"I'm sorry," she says, rubbing circles into his back. "I'm sorry but you had to know." Minho had to know what Thomas had done that day, what he had tried to do.

However, Brenda would never tell him of what _she_ had done. Thomas hadn't looked back - but Brenda  _did._ She had seen it  _all._ Trembling fingers didn't help someone when they were aiming, nor when they cried themselves silly, not when they closed their eyes when they fired, or were practically sat upon by the person wishing for death's grip. It was bad timing on both their parts. Newt had moved too suddenly, too jerkily - a fault of being a Crank, she knows - and Thomas … well, Thomas was a poor shot who couldn't even do the last thing his not-quite best friend had asked of him.

Thomas had _missed_ , and instead shot Newt in the shoulder. The recoil had knocked Newt off and away, and the spray of blood was enough for him to think the deed done. Thomas had scrambled out of there, horror already set in his heart that he didn't dare glance back. Brenda's fault had been when she hadn't told him, when he had gasped out -  _"What have I done?" -_ and instead remained quiet for the rest of the drive. Thomas hadn't known that he had missed, that Newt was alive - and probably mad beyond hell - but Brenda did and perhaps she would regret not telling him that day.

_This_ secret,  _this_ lie, she hoped, would be the final one that she would take to their grave. How would they react, knowing that Newt was alive when they thought him dead? They couldn't bring him along. He had wanted to be on his own, but the betrayal in his eyes when he had seen what "Tommy" had done...

She shivers and whispers condolences into Minho's hair.

She knows that she can't tell them, not like this - not when they're already so devastated. This lie would be the first and last one she ever told them, she swore.


End file.
